O Hush the noise, ye men of strife, and hear the angels sing
by hayj
Summary: She nodded against his shoulder. "Exactly. And no matter how long they're gone it's like a piece of your heart is missing."


** O Hush the noise, ye men of strife, and hear the angels sing**

Someone shuffling around downstairs woke Bass from the light sleep he had finally drifted into this Christmas Eve. With a sigh he looked over at the clock on his bedside table. Everyone in the house had went to bed hours ago.

Quietly getting up, he slid his sword from its sheath. Making sure to avoid the second to the top and third to the bottom creaky steps, he stood at the bottom of the stairs listening. Someone was in the kitchen moving this way. Leaning back against the wall he watched as Charlie shuffled by in her pajamas, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders with a mug of steaming liquid in her hands.

Watching as she settled down in front of the dining room windows, he came down the last few stairs making just enough noise so that she would know he was there.

"Charlotte?" he called out quietly.

"Bass!" she answered a soft smile on her face as she turned and held out her hand, reaching for him.

With a tilt of his head, he took her hand letting her guide him to sit beside her.

"Look!" she whispered, her voice filled with excitement, nodding out the window as she sipped her tea.

Looking out the window, he saw what had her so captivated. It had begun to snow. The flakes were so large they could see them glistening them in the moonlight as they fell past the window. She passed her cup of tea to him and he took it, taking a drink before passing it back to her as she laid her head on his bare shoulder.

"It's pretty isn't it, Bass?"

"Yeah, it is Charlotte." he responded his voice huskier than he expected.

"I haven't seen snow since before I left Wisconsin."

"Charlie," Bass began only to be shushed by her, probably due to the guilt bleeding out his mouth.

"Stop." She told him squeezing his hand. "Sometimes I think that you're the only one who really understands."

"Understands what?"

"How bittersweet it is." She replied with a sigh before taking another sip of tea. "I know that Miles lost my Dad, but he never talks about him. It's like if it weren't for me and Mom, he never had any family other than you. Maybe it's because he was the younger sibling. He didn't watch him grow up the way that you and I did with our sibling's."

Bass looked down at their connected hands. It was rare that he, himself, spoke about his baby sisters. "Maybe." He finally replied thinking about the point she was trying to make. "It's almost like they're your own."

She nodded against his shoulder. "Exactly. And no matter how long they're gone it's like a piece of your heart is missing."

Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he buried his nose in her hair placing a kiss on the top of her head. "It does get easier." He murmured. "You eventually get to the point you can remember the good and the bad doesn't hurt as much."

"I hope so." She whispered after a few long minutes. "I need some more tea. Want some?"

"Sure, I'll come help." He said helping her to stand

"Okay," She smiled keeping hold of his hand as they walked to the kitchen, Bass leaning against the cabinets as she fixed them each a cup of tea adding honey for sweetener.

She began to tell him stories about her childhood with Danny as they watched the snow continue to fall through the kitchen windows.

He chimed in with stories about Angela and Cynthia, even sharing a few about her and Danny before the blackout, both laughing softly at the antics of the children involved.

They had moved back to the living room and were sharing a blanket as they sat on the couch, Charlie's eyes growing heavy as she leaned on Bass a bit more.

"I found something for you today." She whispered sleepily reaching into the pocket on her pajama bottoms. Pulling out a photograph, she pressed it into his hands.

Looking down, he realized he was holding one of the last photos of him with his baby sisters, an arm wrapped around each of them as Miles held a three years old Charlie who had attached herself like glue to him that summer. It was July of 2010 and he and Miles had been at home on leave for the Fourth. Ben had brought Charlie to his family's barbecue leaving a very pregnant Rachel at home resting. She must have sent a copy to Gene and his wife.

His breath hitched as a few tears escaped down his face. "Thank you, Charlotte." He whispered into the early morning silence, his hold on her tightening.

She tilted her head, brushing a kiss on the underside of his jaw. "Merry Christmas, Bass"


End file.
